


Catch You

by kate_button



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_button/pseuds/kate_button
Summary: They built this thing from scratch, six years of it, built it from the ground up. Six years of fights and late nights and fucks and all the moments in between.Steve knew he was done for from the very beginning.





	Catch You

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr.](https://un-buttoned.tumblr.com/)

Billy’s drunk again. Steve’s not surprised. Got no reason to be surprised. It’s two in the morning and Billy’s drunk and grinning and leaning against his door frame with an unlit cigarette between his lips, shirt unbuttoned down to his belly.

Steve lets him in. Doesn’t consider not doing it, gets his hands on Billy’s hips when Billy puts his arms around Steve’s shoulders, drapes himself over him, takes the cigarette from his mouth and runs his wet lips up Steve’s neck, sucks his ear lobe between them and nips at it. 

‘Hey, baby,’ Billy breathes, liquor sweet, smiling at him, soppy-drunk. 

‘Hey yourself. You know it’s 2 in the morning, right?’ 

‘Course. Bar’s closed. You’re up, anyway.’ 

He’s up because Billy’s mom died ten years ago today, and he kinda thought this might happen. ‘Suppose you’re right.’ 

‘You waitin’ up for me, baby?’ 

Steve’s never sure which Billy he’s gonna get when he opens his door at two am. Might be the Billy that wants to fight him. Might be the Billy that wants to fuck him. Might be the Billy that wants to cry in his arms until it gets light out and he passes out, hiccuping. Sometimes he gets a Billy that just wants to curl up in his bed, listen to Steve talk about nothing at all until he falls asleep.

He always opens the door. Take any Billy that needs him.

‘So what if I was?’ 

A smile starts slow at the corner of Billy’s mouth, picks up steam and breaks wider until it’s dimpling his cheeks, eyes crinkling. ‘You’re so fucking sweet, Harrington, takin’ care of me. Always takin’ care of me.’ 

‘Somebody’s gotta. Can’t be fuckin’ trusted to do it yourself.’ 

Billy laughs, wraps his arms tighter around Steve’s neck, gets them as close together as he can get them. 

They’ve been through hell, both of them. Been to hell and back and seen each other through it. Built this fucking thing from nothing, six years of it, too many fights and fucks and late nights just like this one to count. Billy’s held Steve’s hair back while he vomited up half a bottle of vodka, and Steve’s curled himself around Billy while he hugged a toilet bowl just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Steve’s cleaned blood off Billy’s face, off his knuckles, off wounds put there by the shit that keeps Steve up at night, still, and Billy’s done the same for him. He knows all Billy’s secrets, all the shit he doesn’t tell anyone, and Billy knows all his.

‘Gonna take care of me tonight, baby?’ Billy asks it like he needs it, the way he says shit when he’s serious but can’t admit that he’s serious. 

Steve holds him tight, tucks his face into Billy’s neck, presses his lips there. Billy’s life was really shit for a long time after his mom died, the first in a series of terrible fucking events that dragged out into terrible years that put Billy in a really, really dark place. Put him in such a dark place that Billy still carries it around with him, still has it in him, still buckles under the weight of it, sometimes. 

He doesn’t ask Billy what he needs, just holds onto him.

‘Don’t know what I’d do without you,’ Billy says, eventually. Billy’s always honest, but drunk Billy is reckless about it, less inhibited, less terrified of showing Steve all his vulnerable places than sober Billy.

‘Fuckin’ fall apart, probably,’ Steve says, and Billy laughs and kisses his jaw. 

‘Oh, definitely. Never fuckin’ leave me.’

Billy says it like a joke, kinda, but it’s not. Steve feels it in his chest, deep ache of it. Can’t imagine his life without this, without Billy. Feels a little panicky just thinking about it. ‘You know that’s not going to happen. You’re stuck with me until we’re both dead.’ 

‘Better happen at the same fucking time,’ Billy says, ‘Can’t do this shit without you.’ 

‘Good thing you won’t have to. Not leaving you.’ 

‘Good,’ Billy says, pulls back to look at him. ‘You’re tired.’ 

‘It’s two in the morning,’ Steve says, ducks forward and kisses the corner of Billy’s mouth. 

Billy pulls back just a touch, eyebrows crinkling, frowning. ‘You know that’s not what I mean.’ 

‘Remind me that you wanna talk about this when you’re sober.’ 

‘Don’t be a dick,’ Billy says. 

‘I’m not. Just _tired_.’ 

Billy rolls his eyes. ‘You really fucking _are_ , actually. Come on, let’s go to bed.’ 

Billy takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom. To Steve’s bedroom. To Steve’s bed. He kicks off his shoes in the hallway, shoves his pants down and leaves them on Steve’s bedroom floor, shrugs his jacket and his shirt off and leaves them in a heap on Steve’s desk. He crawls into Steve’s bed, under the covers.

Billy has a side of Steve’s bed. Steve doesn’t sleep on it, even when Billy’s not here. Billy’s usually not here.

‘You coming?’ Billy asks, covers pulled up to his shoulders, curled up on his side, facing the spot where Steve should be. 

He wants this every night. Wants it all the time, not just when Billy’s drunk and needy, when Steve is, not just when Billy doesn’t have anything better to do. 

He crawls into bed, and Billy wraps himself around him, kisses his neck. ‘You mad at me?’ 

Steve’s chest aches. ‘No,’ he says, turns on his side and faces Billy and brushes his curly hair back out of his face. ‘No, I’m not mad you. Got no reason to be mad at you.’ 

‘Got something on that pretty mind of yours,’ Billy says. Just. Says shit like that. Who says shit like that? Steve closes his eyes, takes a breath. Billy slides a hand up his shirt, splays his fingers on Steve’s side, skin to skin. 

‘Got a lotta things on my mind, Billy. What else is new.’ 

‘You’re not fooling me, baby,’ Billy says, leaning in and pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead. ‘Gonna tell me eventually. You’re shit at keeping secrets.’ 

‘Just from you,’ Steve says, tucking himself in a little closer to Billy. 

‘Yeah. Can’t keep shit from you, either. Fucking pair we make, huh?’ 

God, if only. Steve scoots in, tucks his face into Billy’s neck, puts his leg between Billy’s, wraps his arm around his waist.

He knew when Billy beat the shit out of him all those years ago that he was fucking done for. He remembers sitting in class in the days after, face still throbbing, watching Billy and being _fascinated_. Needing to know more. Needing to know everything. Wondering what made him who he was. Wondering who he was.

‘I’m not that drunk, you know,’ Billy says, quiet, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. The air between them where Steve’s got his face tucked is warm, humid, smells like cigarette smoke and rum and Billy’s sweat, subtle hint of his cologne. Not like in high school, when Billy was doing everything so much, turning it up to 11 in all the small ways he could to not tear his skin off in that fucking house of his, when he used to reek of it. Made Steve hot then, makes him hot now. Some things haven’t changed at all.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Steve knows. Steve can tell. Met pretty much every version of Billy when he’s got some liquor in him.

‘You gonna tell me what’s eating at you?’ 

‘Tell you over breakfast, if you wanna stick around for once.’ Steve feels his cheeks flush hot, grateful for the dark and the way he’s got his face tucked up into Billy’s neck. He didn’t mean to say that. He’s just. So tired. It’s not really fair, and it’s not even really true. Billy stays, sometimes. Lounges on his couch and smokes his weed and flips through his growing cd collection. Billy refuses to switch, has a thousand fucking cassettes in his car and a record player in his living room. Billy’s a snob in the weirdest ways. 

His hand goes still in Steve’s hair. 

‘I think you just did, baby,’ Billy says, voice a little thick, a little off. Steve lets out a breath, holds him a little tighter, doesn’t want him to leave.

He hasn’t fucked anyone but Billy in years. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t want anyone else. He doesn’t ask Billy about the nights he’s not here, doesn’t want to know, doesn’t expect Billy to change for him. Doesn’t expect him to ever be anything other than exactly what he is, who he is. He loves Billy, with all his scars and all his darkness and all his fire and all his flaws, loves him when he’s a dick and when he’s sweet, when he’s all sharp edges and when he’s soft. Can’t imagine ever asking him to be anything else.

His eyes sting. He squeezes them shut until it goes away. He’s got Billy. Got him right now, got him in so many ways that no one else has ever had, will ever have.

He kisses Billy’s throat, slides his hand up Billy’s shirt and splays his fingers out on his back, feels him breathing. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and fucking means it, ‘I didn’t. I’m just tired, Billy.’ 

Billy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say anything for so long that Steve pulls back to look at him, feels like shit when he sees Billy’s face. He hurt him. Didn’t even mean to. Stupid.

Billy might not be that drunk, but he’s still drunk. His mom still died ten years ago today. Billy’s life has still been mostly hell since then. Steve’s still one of the few things good things he’s managed to hold onto. Tonight’s still one of his worst nights, one of his hardest nights, one of the nights when all those big feelings Billy doesn’t know how to cope with are closest to the surface, when he’s least equipped to deal with them. 

He shouldn’t have started this shit tonight. Shouldn’t have let Billy get him talking. He feels like an asshole. 

‘Billy, hey,’ Steve says, and Billy looks at him, walls up a little. Steve fucking hates that. ‘That was shitty of me and I didn’t fucking mean it.’ 

‘You sure about that?’ 

Steve takes a breath, puts his hand on Billy’s cheek and kisses him. ‘My shit is my shit. Not your problem.’ 

‘That’s bullshit and you fucking know it, Harrington,’ Billy says, quiet, ‘when has either of our shit ever just been either of our shit? Your shit _is_ my shit.’ 

‘We don’t have to do this tonight, Billy,’ 

Billy scoffs out a laugh. ‘Too late for that, baby. We’re already fucking doing it.’ 

‘ _Billy_ ,’ Steve says, doesn’t want to do this tonight. Really doesn’t want to fuck this up any more than he already has. Knows Billy’s not gonna let it go. Dog with a bone. He moves his hand, back into Billy’s hair, to the side of his neck. ‘I. I love you. Okay? I love you. That’s all. I love you so fucking much it hurts sometimes. That’s _my_ shit, not yours. Let it be my shit.’ 

‘You know I can’t.’ Billy clutches at him. ‘What. What do you want?’ 

Steve’s stomach twists, his heart clenches. Aches. ‘Nothing. I’m. God, Billy, can we please just not _do_ this? You already _know_. You fucking know. You know everything there is to know about me, and this is about the most obvious thing there is.’ 

He’s loved Billy for years. Loved him as hard as one person can love another person. He’s kissed bruises he left on Billy’s cheeks, he’s let Billy clean cuts he put on his face with his fists. He’s seen the darkest, meanest, ugliest parts of Billy, and Billy’s seen those same places in Steve, never once looked away, never shied away, let Steve show him and stayed with him anyway.

‘You want me to tell you? You know I love you, I tell you all the fucking time. You’re. God, you stupid fuck, I’d be a wreck without you. You’re the most valuable thing in my life, there’s not a goddamn thing I wouldn’t do for you. What am I not... I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me how to stop hurting you.’ 

The tears start, then. Not the first time Billy’s seen him cry. Not the first time Billy’s _made_ him cry. 

‘I don’t _know_ , Billy. I just. I just want you. That’s it. I just _want_ you.’ 

‘You’ve _got me_ , baby.’ 

‘ _No_ , not. I don’t just want you when shit’s bad. I don’t just want you at two in the morning when you’re done at the fucking bar, or when I’m crawling out of my fucking skin and you’re the only person who knows how to put me back in. I want you _all the time_ , you fucking _asshole_. Want all of you. All of it.’ 

Billy’s eyes are kinda wide, lips parted. His fingers tighten in Steve’s hair, clutching a little. Steve can’t stop talking. 

‘It’s been six fucking _years_ , Billy. And you show up here and you fuck me and you fight me and you play with my fucking hair and tell me all your secrets and then I don’t see you for days, don’t hear from you for days and then we do the whole thing all over again and every fucking night, every fucking night I wonder if you’re gonna be here, if you’re gonna knock on my door, and I spend all night hoping that you do. You stupid, _stupid_ son of a bitch. You know how long it’s been since I fucked anyone that wasn’t you? Almost five years. Five _years_ , asshole.’ 

Billy closes his eyes, takes a few rattly breaths. He slides his hand down to the back of Steve’s neck, pulls him in and kisses him, gently coaxes Steve’s mouth open, deepens it.

‘Four. Four years,’ Billy says when he pulls away, lips so close to Steve’s he can feel his breath in his mouth. Steve’s heart pounds, breath hitches. ‘I’m not fucking anyone else either, Steve. Haven’t in a long time.’ 

Steve laughs, desperate and crazy. ‘Then what the _fuck_ , Billy?’ 

‘I. I’m not. I don’t want to... You gotta know, baby.’ 

It all clicks, all of a sudden. Steve pulls away, pulls back, pushes himself up. _Furious_. ‘You. You fucking _asshole_ , I cannot fucking _believe_ you. Are you trying to fucking- You can’t _save me_ from this, you stupid fuck. We are way the fuck past that.’ 

Billy’s glaring now, getting pissed, getting up and putting them on even ground again. ‘I can’t be good to you. I’ll fucking ruin you, baby, you _gotta_ fucking know that. Fucking ruin all of this.’ 

It’s bullshit, anyway, because Billy is good to him all the fucking time. Even when he’s not. If either of them were gonna ruin whatever this thing is, they woulda done it a long time ago. It’s all bullshit. Steve shakes. Furious. 

‘I don’t _want_ you to be good to me! I’ve never wanted you to be anything to me that you’re not already. God, what the _hell_ , Billy. I already know every fucking thing there is to know and I’m in love with you anyway! I’m in love with you _because_ of it! What the fuck do you think, that I’m gonna find out you’re kind of a fucking prick and leave you? That I’ll find out that sometimes your idea of foreplay is a fucking fist fight and it might scare me away? I already know that, and I’m not scared, I’m not fucking _leaving_. If you don’t want me because you don’t want me, fine, I can keep doing it this way as long as you’ll have me. But if you don’t want me because you’re scared I can’t handle the unabridged version of you, you can go fuck yourself.’ 

Billy _glares_. ‘Fine. You wanna do this? You wanna call this what it is? You’re all-fucking-in? _Fine_. Just remember that next time you wanna fucking kill me. You asked for this.’ 

Steve’s heart hammers. It’s everything he’s wanted for years, now, and he’s still so _pissed_. Billy’s such a fucking idiot. ‘ _Fine_ ,’ he says, ‘Can’t fucking forget it, can I? Made sure of that, making me wait six fucking _years_.’ 

Billy pokes him in the chest, fingertip on his sternum. ‘Not gonna apologize for that, dickhead.’ Steve smacks his hand away. 

‘Didn’t fucking ask you to, did I?’ 

Billy grabs the back of his neck, lightning quick, pulls him in and seals their mouths together, no preamble, licks at Steve’s tongue, pulls back and bites his bottom lip, too hard, splits it open between his teeth. It’s. Incredibly appropriate, really. He moans, digs his fingers into Billy’s thighs, hopes he leaves bruises. Fucking asshole. Deserves it. Would like it. 

It figures, honestly. That they’d start this shit with a fight. No other way it coulda gone. 

‘Didn’t fucking make you wait, anyway. Been with you since day one, you dumb shit.’ Billy gets the hem of Steve’s shirt in his hands and Steve raises his arms, lets him pulls it off of him. 

‘Move in with me,’ Steve says, getting his hand back in Billy’s hair and pulling, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to tip his chin up, give Steve room to mouth at his throat. 

‘No,’ Billy says, and Steve lets go of his hair when Billy gets his hand on Steve’s chin, tips his face and sucks his split lip into his mouth, runs his tongue over it. ‘We get a house or we’re both gonna get fucking arrested. No apartments. No shared walls.’ Billy pushes him back on the bed, crawls on top of him. 

‘God, yeah. That’s fucking smart.’ 

‘One of us’s gotta be, and it’s sure as shit not gonna be you,’ Billy says, pulling Steve’s underwear off. 

‘You’re such a dick,’ Steve says, pulling Billy down on him, rolling his hips up, ‘take your fucking underwear off, christ.’ 

Billy shoves them down, kicks them off. Billy’s got him so fucked up, crazy and ecstatic and so annoyed, still. He wants to get his teeth in Billy, maybe. Wants Billy to leave marks. 

Billy kisses him, really drags it out, runs his hands up Steve’s arms and laces their fingers together and presses his hands to the bed. Grinds his hips into Steve’s a little, gets him hard. 

‘What do you think I should do to you tonight, baby?’ Billy asks, looking down at him, squeezing his hands and pushing them harder into the bed. 

Steve always goes kinda easy when Billy does this sort of thing, holds him down or pushes him around. It’s been a long fucking night. Long night waiting for Billy to show up or not, long night since then. He’s very fucking tired, and it hits him all at once, Billy on top of him, holding him down. 

Seems like a good idea to give it up. So he does. All the tension drains out of him, and Billy grins, feels it. ‘Okay, then.’ 

Steve rolls his hips up, and Billy leans down, bites his neck, real quick. Steve closes his eyes and tips his head, lets him. 

Then Billy pulls back, heat of him gone. Steve opens his eyes. Billy grabs the lube off the bedside table, sits back on his heels. 

‘Put your hands under the pillow,’ Billy says, popping the cap on the lube. Steve slides his hands under the pillow. ‘Knees up.’ Steve bends his knees, tucks his heels up by his ass, lets his legs fall open. Billy smiles at him, dumps some lube on his fingers. ‘You’re fucking pretty.’ 

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles. Billy being sweet still gets him. ‘Not so bad yourself.’ 

Billy rubs his middle finger over Steve’s hole, makes his heart beat faster. ‘So are you like my boyfriend, then?’ Billy asks, pushing his finger in, sliding it all the way in, real slow, one long steady push. It makes Steve’s breath catch, and he clutches at the pillow. 

‘You want me to be?’ Steve asks, tipping his hips up and rolling them back down, trying to get Billy moving. Billy rubs his thumb in little circles on Steve’s cheek, pulls his finger out just a little and pushes it back in. 

‘You started this shit. You decide.’ 

Billy curves his finger, rubbing over his prostate as he moves in these long, slow strokes. It makes his legs shake a little, makes his stomach jump, feels fucking awesome. ‘Call it whatever the hell you wanna call it,’ Steve says, rolling his hips down to meet Billy’s thrusts. Billy lays his free hand on Steve’s belly, splays his fingers wide and presses a little. ‘Wanna do this every night. Most mornings, too. Want you here. Want your stupid fucking face to be the first thing I see when I wake up.’ 

Billy pulls out and comes back with two fingers, makes Steve swear when he pushes in. Everything is hazy sweet and Billy looks so fucking pretty over him. ‘You know I love it when when you talk sweet,’ Billy says, shoving his fingers deep just to make him gasp.

‘Mean it, dickhead. Wanna cook you fucking breakfast.’ 

‘Christ,’ Billy says, like that’s the thing that gets him. He ducks his head, crooks his fingers and works Steve’s prostate for a minute, makes Steve’s dick leak on the back of Billy’s hand. ‘You gonna do it naked?’ 

‘You want me to?’ Steve gasps, hips jumping when Billy gets him good. 

‘Fucking right I want you to.’ Billy gets him good. 

‘You got it, then. Wake you up with blowjobs too. I’m an excellent fucking. Boyfriend. Whatever.’ 

‘Lover?’ Billy tries, thrusting a little quicker now, a little deeper now that Steve’s loosening up a little, getting all warm and easy. 

‘Sure,’ Steve gets out, shifting his feet a little wider. Billy presses his fingertips into his belly. ‘You gonna fuck me?’ 

‘Already am fucking you,’ Billy says. ‘Partner?’ 

It hits Steve in the gut, in the chest, makes his hips buck and his dick jump. ‘Oh, god.’ Partner. It’s. Heavy. Fucking hot as hell. ‘Meant with your dick, babe.’ 

‘Yeah, no. Want you to come on my fingers. Better half?’ 

‘Not gonna call myself your better half,’ Steve says, and Billy twists his wrist, makes his breath catch, drags a little noise out of his throat. ‘Call you mine, though. True as hell.’ 

Billy grins down at him, indulgent. ‘I’m a fucking mess, baby.’ 

‘Doesn’t matter. We’re both fucking messes.’ 

‘You gonna come any time soon?’ 

‘Not if you don’t fucking fuck me right.’ 

‘God, you’re such a little shit. Christ.’ Billy shifts up on his knees, moves his hand off Steve’s belly and plants it next to his side, hovers over him and puts some weight into it, moves like he would if he had his dick in him. 

It’s really fucking hot. Billy’s really fucking hot, looking down at him while he works him over with his fingers, hits all those places he can’t always get to with his dick. ‘Fuck, Billy.’ 

‘Any time you’re ready, princess.’ 

‘Fuck you,’ Steve says, moves with Billy. ‘God, you’re fucking gorgeous. A huge asshole, but really fucking. Just. Gorgeous, god.’ 

Billy smiles, ducks down and kisses him real deep, fucks him good. The underside of his forearm kinda rubs against Steve’s dick, all trapped between them. It’s not gonna take long for him to get off like this. 

‘I do love you, you know,’ Billy breathes, lips moving against Steve’s. Steve is. Very fucking close. ‘So fucking much, baby. Tell me you know that.’ 

Steve comes. His hands aren’t under the pillow anymore, one at the back of Billy’s neck, one in his hair, clutching and coming and getting Billy as close to him as he possibly can. ‘Fuck, christ, I. I know. Oh my god, Billy.’ 

Billy fucks him through it, doesn’t pull out until Steve’s whimpering and his dick is starting to soften up. 

Billy wraps his fingers around his dick, jerks himself off. Steve tugs him down, kisses him, keeps kissing him until Billy’s making noises into his mouth and his hips are jerking, until Billy shoots all over him, makes a mess all over his belly. 

Steve pulls Billy down on top of him when he’s done, tugs until Billy relaxes and lets Steve take his weight. He runs his hands up and down Billy’s back, and Billy kisses his neck. 

‘I do know,’ he says. 

‘Good,’ Billy says, shifts off to the side a little, pulls the blanket up over them. ‘So, you’re gonna cook.’ 

‘I’m gonna fucking cook.’ 

‘Okay, then.’ Billy winds his arm around Steve’s waist, holds on. 

‘I’m not gonna leave you,’ Steve says, holds onto Billy’s arm. ‘Just because there’s a... I’m not gonna leave you. Calling this what it is doesn’t suddenly mean that now it’s easier to end it.’ 

‘Christ,’ Billy breathes, fingers pressing into his side. ‘You really fucking got me pegged, don’t you?’ 

‘I mean it,’ Steve says. 

‘Yeah, I know you do, baby. I know you do. Don’t let me fuck it up, okay?’ 

‘You’re not gonna fuck it up.’ 

‘You don’t know that.’ 

‘I really fucking do. You’re it. I’m fucking done. Been done since day one. You know. You see it, I know you do.’ 

‘Me too, you know. Just because I’m... I’m in it, you know. I am. Still just as gone for your dumb ass as I’ve been since we were eighteen.’ 

Steve shifts onto his side and tucks himself in close and presses his lips to Billy’s, kisses him and tries to tell him everything Billy won’t let himself believe. He’s not going anywhere. Got all the time in the world to make Billy believe it. Will keep convincing him every day for as long as Billy needs it. 

‘So, what’s for breakfast?’ Billy asks, pushing Steve’s hair back. 

Steve smiles. ‘How do you feel about pancakes?’ 

‘Feel real good about them,’ Billy says, ducks forward and kisses him again, ‘feel _real_ good about watching your pretty ass cook them.’ 

‘Good,’ Steve says, exhausted and so fucking content, ‘pancakes it is, then.’ 


End file.
